


The Long Weekend

by htbthomas



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Relationship, Separations, Yuletide 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity has a conference, so she makes a deal with the team: no Arrow-related activities for the whole three-day weekend. After all, the police handled things for five months, they could handle them for three days.</p><p>Oliver has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Weekend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kyrieanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/gifts).



> Thank you to my rockstar of a beta, blithers.

"Our speaker today has made her IT organization a strategic business partner, producing significant business value for the company in the form of financial performance, customer satisfaction and loyalty, market share, and productivity. Her strong commitment to—"

_Buzz!_

Felicity twitches, just having settled into her seat at the morning's keynote address. Who could be texting her? Everyone with her personal cell phone number knows she is attending an IT conference until Sunday. She doesn't want to miss anything, not if she can help it. It had been hard enough convincing Oliver to let her go in the first place—despite her new job title of executive assistant, she did need to stay up on the latest technology strategies for her… other job.

When the reminder came up in her personal planner for the conference, she had made the suggestion that everyone take a mini-vacation. No Arrow-related activities for the whole three-day weekend. After all, the police handled things for five months, they could handle them for three days. If there was an actual emergency, they could cut the vacation short.

Friday had been a pleasant day of breakout sessions and chatting with fellow IT aficionados. If people noticed the name and company on her badge at all, they didn't immediately identify her as the blonde constantly at Oliver Queen's side. Going to a conference out of town had some benefits. 

So she wonders—is there an emergency already, at nine in the morning on a Saturday? Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she glances at the screen. It's Oliver.

He'd better be texting to tell her that there's been a coffee shop riot, instead of asking how to run the Keurig machine again. ('For Pete's sake, Oliver, you fill the reservoir, stick in a cup and press BREW. You can handcraft arrows, but can't figure out this?') The text reads: _Locked out of computer. Password?_

Felicity chuckles to herself. Trying to keep one ear on the speaker's introduction, she types, _Dig knows the password, ask him._ She puts the phone back in her pocket.

The speaker is already at the podium after polite applause—it is early, after all, and Felicity will bet half of her fellow attendees were up late. Not all partying, probably a fair number of them were messing around online into the early hours. Not Felicity—after an hour of watching TV (and not the news), she decided to treat herself to a peaceful night's sleep. For once.

It wasn't her fault that her dreams had been filled with vigilante adventures, both real and imagined.

She shakes her head at her own silliness and focuses on the speaker again. "The concept of a services taxonomy at its most basic is a common language about what IT provides," the woman is saying. "The word 'services' means—"

_Buzz!_

"Oh, god," Felicity murmurs, and the guy next to her gives her annoyed look. "Sorry," she explains in a whisper. "My boss."

The annoyance turns to commiseration. He mouths, "I turned mine off."

"I might have to," she mouths back. The text reads: _Dig not here. Spent night w/ Lyla. Password?_

Felicity rolls her eyes. _Which computer? Office or.._ She averts the screen from the people around her to type, _Cave?_ Why is he locked out, anyway? Did he try to access something unusual and trigger the safeguards?

 _Verdant._

She smiles. He doesn't like to call it the Arrow Cave or the Lair. After a moment to double check the encryption on her phone—she is in a building full of tech geeks, after all—she types the password.

* * *

Felicity is turning an ultrathin terabyte hard drive in her hands at a booth in the exhibition hall when an email notification comes through. _Felicity_ , it reads, _When you get a chance, I need your help troubleshooting the comm system._

"So much for keeping our agreement," she says out loud.

"Excuse me?" the vendor asks.

Felicity looks up, apologetic. "Just a work email." She puts the phone back. He did say she could get back to him 'when she got a chance.'

"They never leave you alone, do they?" the vendor comments with an understanding chuckle.

"You have no idea."

"Believe me, I do. That's why I got out of IT ten years ago. It's like your life is not your own, right?"

Felicity nods. Now that she is officially on call 24/7 for both the CEO of Queen Consolidated and for Team Arrow, any semblance of a personal life has flown out the window like The Arrow on a zipline.

The vendor glances at the hard drive in her hands. "Looking to upgrade your storage? That drive is one of the best on the market."

Felicity sets it down. "Do you have anything higher capacity?"

"What's your budget?"

"Not really an issue." She says the words before realizing how odd they sound.

"Really." He takes in the Queen Consolidated on her badge and then his face lights up with avarice. "What we have here in the booth is not our complete product line by any means. If you let me make a few calls, I can—"

Her email notification goes off again. Her eyebrows draw together in annoyance. "Excuse me." She turns away to check. _Also, the tracking software. Thanks, Oliver._

Felicity blows out a breath. _Are you working a case? What happened to taking the weekend off?_ She doesn't bother signing her name.

The reply comes back almost immediately via text. _Just research. Something for later._

Felicity shakes her head. _Good. You better not be going on the hunt without someone to watch your butt._ She sends it and then bites her lip, mortified. _I mean, without me to watch._ Then, _Your back, not your butt._ As if that clarified things.

He doesn't reply. She's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing.

A blush rising to her cheeks, she puts the phone on silent and buries it deep in her tote. "Now, about those drives..."

* * *

Felicity takes one of the only empty stools at the hotel bar. She hadn't intended on coming down here; her original plan was to sleep the sleep of the dead, but after an hour of tossing and turning, wondering what sort of 'research' Oliver was up to, she gave up. 

The place is packed, filled with other attendees who are either looking to network or to hook up. She wonders which agenda the people to either side of her have tonight. She catches the bartender's attention. "Red wine, please. 2009 Dominus Estate, if you have it." He nods and goes to uncork the bottle.

The woman beside her perks up her ears. "Oh, that sounds a lot better than this." She lifts her beer. 

Felicity guesses that the woman is drinking the cheapest beer on draft by the pale color of the brew. That was Felicity only a year ago. It was easy to forget what it was like living from paycheck to paycheck after you got used to carte blanche. "You want one? On me." The woman gives her a grateful smile and nods. Felicity holds up two fingers and the bartender pulls down another glass.

"Thanks." The woman eyes Felicity up and down, taking in her loose curls, her casual blouse and pencil skirt with bright heels. "You here alone?"

Felicity's face warms, flattered. "Yes, but I'm just looking for a drinking buddy, I promise."

"Fair enough." The woman shrugs. "Happy to oblige." 

"I mean, not that I don't find you attractive or anything, but I'm in a relationship right now. With my job." Pressing her lips together to stop the babbling torrent of words, she holds out her hand. "Felicity Smoak, Queen Consolidated."

"Naomi Singh, Currently Unemployed." She eyes Felicity's badge with interest. "Queen Consolidated, huh?

The wine arrives and Felicity takes a sip. "Yes."

Naomi tastes it as well. "Mm, now _that_ is a vintage I could get used to. Queen must pay well."

Felicity makes a noncommittal sound. She's paid far better than most. "I can't complain. The hours, on the other hand…"

"Yeah, you said, 'married to the job'. Working day and night for The Man, huh?"

Felicity's phone rings then. She can't help but let out a frustrated sigh. "Now?" How was she supposed to enjoy a vigilante-free vacation if he kept calling? 

"Let me guess," Naomi says. "Work?"

Felicity hits decline and turns the phone upside down on the bar. "He can leave a voicemail." She swigs back her drink.

Naomi shakes her head in disbelief. "You literally _are_ working day and night, you poor thing!" She takes another sip of wine. "Still, it's a job. In this economy, better to have a job to complain about than none at all, am I right?"

"Right." It's so much more than a job now for her, no longer about the money that she doesn't have time to spend anyway.

"So…" Naomi leans forward conspiratorially. "What's it like to work there? After all the—"

She is interrupted by the bartender appearing in front of them, clearing his throat. "Ms. Smoak?"

"Yes?" Felicity sets down her glass.

"There's a call for you. A Mr. Green?"

Felicity's mouth drops open. She can't believe he's breaking their pact this badly. Unless… "Is it an emergency?"

"He didn't say, miss. Just that he would like to speak with you."

She covers her face with her palm. "Then no. Tell him I'm busy. I'll call him later." The bartender nods and leaves.

When Felicity turns back to look at Naomi, her eyebrows are rising past her bangs. "Wow. Hardcore. You must have some job security."

Felicity huffs. "He's been calling all day—or texting, or emailing—about unimportant things. Things that can wait until Monday. If it were important, he would have said so." She ignores the twinge of conscience, pushes it way, way down. This is _her_ weekend, dammit. Even if she does miss the team… She swigs back her wine with determination. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Oh, yeah. What's it like to work there, with all the scandal surrounding Moira Queen? The place must be abuzz."

"Uh…" Felicity doesn't really want to reveal just how in the thick of it she really is, but it is nice to talk about it with someone far from Starling City. "Pretty crazy sometimes."

"I bet! I still can't believe they cleared her of all charges."

Felicity's face heats with offense and she sits up straight. "As they should have. Mrs. Queen was an unwilling accomplice, under extreme duress."

Naomi backs off immediately, holding up her hands. "Hey, sorry. I'm sure you're right. I only know what I read online. You actually work in the building."

Felicity wants to lay into her some more, but Naomi seems genuinely sorry. And Felicity knows—anyone would have known after that disastrous welcome back party—that she's one of the only people in the building who believe in Moira's innocence. "It's all right. The Queens really are good people. They're trying to do what's right by Starling City, to make up for past wrongs."

"Huh." Naomi considers for a moment. "Maybe I should see if they're hiring. I mean, if you're such a company girl…"

Her eyes travel upward and over Felicity's head and a moment later Felicity feels a warm hand on her shoulder. "She really is."

Felicity closes her eyes for a moment to compose herself. "Mr. _Green_. What are you doing here?" She swivels on the bar stool to face Oliver.

He's dressed in a casual sweater and khakis—somehow he's managed not to attract any attention, despite not hiding behind a mask and hood. He puts his hands in his pockets and tilts his head. "You weren't taking my calls."

Naomi grips her arm and turns Felicity back toward her, whispering, "You didn't tell me that you were working directly for Oliver Queen!"

"And she's indispensable, too."

With a long-suffering sigh, Felicity makes the introductions. "Oliver, this is Naomi. Naomi, Oliver."

He shakes her hand, smiling mildly. "Nice to meet you." Eyeing her nametag, he adds, "Ms. Singh. So I overheard that you're looking for work?"

"Yes," Naomi says, swallowing.

"There is an opening in the IT Department I haven't been able to fill." He reaches into his pocket and gives her a business card. "Tell them I sent you." His words are a polite but firm goodbye.

Naomi thanks him, thanks Felicity, and hightails it out of there.

"I should be getting to bed myself," Felicity says, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She wants to smack him and getting away from him is the only way she'll be able to avoid it.

"Felicity…"

She pretends not to hear him, walking with quick steps toward the elevator. She pushes the elevator button, hoping he'll get the hint. She slips into the elevator, and the doors close without him. 

She collapses against the mirrored wall, blessedly alone. Well, not completely—a couple is making out in the corner, hardly aware of her presence.

Why is he here? How can he just think he can completely take over her life, ignoring her wishes, dismissing the only friendly conversation she's had outside the team in months like an annoying gnat?

She looks inside herself for a long moment. Why doesn't it bother her more?

Walking the hall with heavy steps and a distracted heart, she doesn't notice him leaning against her hotel room door until she's only a few yards away. Felicity stops, stamping her heel on the carpeted floor. "Why didn't you just break in?"

"I didn't have your permission."

"Like you needed my permission to bother me all day? To just show up here unannounced?" She pushes past him to open her door. "What happened to 'taking a vacation'?"

He follows her in. "It wasn't my idea."

"But you agreed to it."

"Yes." He closes the door gently behind him. "Because I was following your wishes." He sits down on the edge of the bed.

She tosses her purse on the bed, more violently than necessary, and pivots on one heel to shake a finger at him. "So if you were following my wishes, why couldn't you let me enjoy this weekend in peace?" He doesn't answer, his emotionless mask settling across his features. Who knows what sort of roiling emotions lay beneath? She forges on—he needs to hear this. "Oliver, do you realize that for the past few months I have spent almost every waking minute working for you? I'm around you all day as your assistant, and all night as your support team. I haven't gone out with friends, I haven't seen a movie, if I find time to eat, it's either take out or gourmet meals. The only date I’ve had was to the company party for your mother." 

As she talks, he grows more and more stony-faced. More calmly, she sits beside him. "I believe in your mission, Oliver," she says softly, "but I can't let it consume my every thought. It's already invading my dreams." She puts her hand on top of his. "I need a break sometimes."

"So," he says, just as quietly, not looking at her, "do you need a break… permanently?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?" Does he think she's going to abandon him? Like his father, like the people on the island who are still too painful to even mention by name? Like Laurel or Tommy? She pulls his hands into hers, gripping them. "Just _some_ times, like this weekend."

The dead look in his eyes slowly fades, replaced with something more alive. His lips crinkle into a ghost of a smile. "I can live with that."

She shoves his hands away with a laugh. "You'd better." She stands and goes to raid the mini-bar. There was no good wine, but maybe something stronger was called for. She grabs a mini-bottle of vodka, remembering his fondness for it in Russia, and tosses it to him. He plucks it out of the air easily. "So," she says, twisting open her own cap. "Why did you come all this way? Just to make sure I wasn't leaving you?"

"No. Not consciously." He tips back the bottle, drinking half of it in a swallow. "Thea was busy with Roy, Mom was doing her own thing, Dig had Lyla. I tried to occupy myself, but it was just… empty in the Arrow Cave."

"You called it the Arrow Cave!" she crows. 

He smirks and finishes off the bottle.

"So you thought coming to bug me was a better idea?"

"No, I just needed a friend. Is that okay?" 

As much as she had been denying it, the weekend had been missing something. "Of course it's okay." Felicity climbs past him to sit against the headboard of the bed. Patting the pillow beside her, she says, "Let’s see what’s on TV. I’m sure we can find something you missed out on during those five years."


End file.
